


Arthur Pendragon, Idiot

by deli (deliciousirony)



Series: Secret Santa Exchanges [7]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: A little bit of angst, Arthur is an arse, But he learns, Christmas, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, and all the fluff, but all the happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 02:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17113028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousirony/pseuds/deli
Summary: Arthur was, for lack of a better word, an idiot. Mind you, he would never ever admit that, not under duress and certainly not voluntarily, and most definitely not in hearing or gossip distance of Merlin. However, the most recent events of the days had brought up the distinct and uncomfortable possibility that it was not, indeed, Merlin, who that moniker should be applied to. Now, standing outside the National in the icy drizzle that constituted London’s best shot at a White Christmas, Arthur was facing a simple truth, a closed door, and a mountain of a security guard, wet and grumpy in equal measure, stoically guarding said closed door.“Mate,” the guard finally said, “don’t even think about it.”





	Arthur Pendragon, Idiot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bunnysworld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnysworld/gifts).



> This is my Secret Santa for bunnysworld - I hope you enjoy my little story! I really hope I filled your prompt to your liking; there is a tiny bit of angst, but also lots of fluff to hopefully make up for it. 
> 
> Beta'ed by the wonderful MalMuses.

Arthur was, for lack of a better word, an idiot. Mind you, he would never ever admit that, not under duress and certainly not voluntarily, and most definitely not in hearing or gossip distance of Merlin. However, the most recent events of the days had brought up the distinct and uncomfortable possibility that it was not, indeed, Merlin, who that moniker should be applied to. Now, standing outside the National in the icy drizzle that constituted London’s best shot at a White Christmas, Arthur was facing a simple truth, a closed door, and a mountain of a security guard, wet and grumpy in equal measure, stoically guarding said closed door.

“Mate,” the guard finally said, “don’t even think about it.”

“Um,” Arthur intelligently answered.

The guard sighed, giving a new dimension to the meaning of ‘put upon’.

“Don’t even think about giving some bullshit excuse to get to Mr. Emrys. We get three of those every week and a couple more trying to deliver coffee, flowers or pizza. The flowers are at least nice, and coffee and pizza are always good, but you haven’t even got those. So just”, he shrugged, “don’t even think about trying to get in.”

“I’m his boyfriend?” Arthur said.

The guards eyebrows shot up.

“You don’t sound very sure about that. I’ll give you a seven for creativity, takes balls to go with this one, but only a four for execution.”

“No, seriously, I really am his boyfriend,” Arthur tried again, fiddling with the rose he was holding. It had started to wilt and the cold weather wasn’t helping. “I mean, I hope that I will be. Still. It sounded like I might have a shot, but I might have-...”

Arthur had to forcefully stop himself from babbling.

The guard stepped forward. A metal name plate flashed in the light of the stage door. Oh. So that was Percy. The Percy. The Percy that Merlin kept going on about, who kept him safe at the signings after the performances, who made sure that his car was already there when he headed out of the theatre, who dragged that fanatical fan out of Merlin’s dressing room. Arthur knew all about the fake pizza delivery story. Arthur also knew all about the marvellous and fantastic Percy. The annoyingly kind and understanding and kitten-saving Percy. The very fit and mountainesque Percy. The Percy of a thousand muscles. That Percy.

Which is where Arthur’s prior epiphany of being an idiot came in. To know yourself was of philosophical value and could certainly be of use going forward, however, in the present situation, it was of precious little use. In hindsight, he thought, it was glaringly obvious that the theatre wouldn’t just let anybody in who wanted to see one of the stars. Somehow he had thought… what had he thought, really? He’d just assumed that he’d be let in on what, good faith alone? If Arthur was brutally honest with himself, he knew that he had been working on the assumption that Merlin would have told people about him and that he should be allowed in and that he was welcome, because Arthur had always been welcome when it came to Merlin, right? Arthur was Merlin’s best mate, for crying out loud, or at least he had been… right?

It occurred to Arthur that he had, in fact, not yet introduced himself, and, contrary to his father, at least Arthur could say honestly that he did not expect people to recognise him on sight. He might have once, but that had been before he had met Merlin.  

“I’m Arthur,” he said. “Merlin’s best mate? We share a flat? Or well, shared, I guess.”

Identifying himself did not help. Percy’s face morphed from put upon boredom to a grim mask of doom. It looked like maybe Merlin had talked about him. Maybe just not in the way Arthur had assumed - hoped, a small voice in the back of his head whispered - that he would.

“You’re Arthur? Arthur Pendragon?” Percy took a menacing step forward.

“Yes, well, I,” Arthur stuttered, gobsmacked in the face of such stormy hostility. He could have sworn his rose was actively bowing under the dizzying flood of disdain and disapproval that was rolling off Percy.

Suddenly the door burst open. A man tumbled out, waving his arms and shaking his billowy white shirt in the cool nightair.

“Oh thank Jesus, Mary and Joseph, cool air,” he groaned, shaking his long wavy hair from his face and giving a happy little sigh when the drizzle hit him in the face. “I know I am the proverbial lucky Irish bastard getting to do the job that I do, but fuck it’s hot under those lights.” He finally noticed his audience. “Percy! And a handsome stranger!”

Arthur felt naked under the man’s once over. Make that twice over.

“Gwain,” Percy said with cold civility. “This is Arthur Pendragon.”

Gwain froze. Arthur found himself on the receiving end of a third over, this time much more calculating.

“Arthur Pendragon, my my my,” he mused, staring some more.

“So I gather Merlin has mentioned me then?” Arthur pulled himself together and did his best to sound confident. If Arthur had one thing to fall back on, it was years and years of learning how to sound so sure of what was going on that not even Uther questioned it. Morgana had always been better at it, but Arthur had learned. “So now that you know who I am, will you kindly please take me to his dressing room.”

The cloud of disdain around Percy thickened some more. Gwain snorted.

“Boy, Merls didn’t exaggerate, did he, Perce,” he said to Percy. “Right the arrogant arse, just like promised.”

Percy glowered.

Arthur felt his insecurity about what exactly was going on and the urgency of his mission mix and meld into indignation.

“I am very sorry if I have offended in any way, but there is something I need to to, it is very urgent, and I would be very grateful if you could help me get to his dressing room.”

Gwains relaxed posture turned stiff. “Offended?! You don’t have any idea do you? You-”

Percy shoved Gwain hard enough to send him flailing for balance. “And even if he has, it is Merlin’s decision to talk about it with him, not ours,” he said very firmly. Percy’s eyes lost focus for a second. “Gwain, stage management called your two minutes cue, go back inside.”

“Fine! But don’t you dare let that arse inside and disturb Merls!”

The only reason the door didn’t bang shut behind Gwain was the automatic door stopper.

After a minute of waiting for the door to close, excruciating awkwardness and the ever present London background droning of cars, voices and big buildings the only sounds, the door finally click-cachunked closed and Percy sighed, again. At least, Arthur thought, it didn’t sound as if he was signing only about Arthur, this time around.

“I…” Arthur started and stopped again. “I just…”

He felt like there was something he should ask, but he had no idea what that was. He knew he had screwed up, he knew he should have asked Merlin sooner, talked to Merlin sooner, let Merlin know sooner how he felt, should have stopped being an arse about taking one night stands to the flat when Merlin asked him to, no matter Merlin’s reasons. He prided himself on his courage but he had run, tail between his legs, when he should have told Merlin that he really only wanted to be with him, and not have waited for Merlin to confess his undying love for Arthur. But somewhere deep inside, Arthur had known, hadn’t he, that Merlin did not actually like him, at least not that way, and instead of accepting that, he had come up with one stupid plan after another instead of being honest.

He had known that tiding himself over, trying to make Merlin jealous with one night stands was theoretically a shitty thing to do, not only to Merlin, but also the other people involved - even though both parties had been up front with what they were getting out of the night. Still, in the end the point had not been to spend the time, and be it just one night, with the person in question, but to rub them into Merlin’s face and make him see how desirable Arthur really was. Thinking about it now, being faced with how different things had gone this evening, it started to dawn on Arthur that he truly wasn’t anything that Merlin desired, not even remotely. Arthur had thought Merlin hooking up with Percy The Muscle had been a product of chance and opportunity more than anything else. Apparently, it hadn’t been.

Now, with what Merlin seemed to say about Arthur, how his friends thought about him, Arthur realised that Merlin would have moved out eventually, anyway, and if anything, Arthur had only succeeded in pushing him away faster. Then again, maybe Arthur was overestimating his importance in this regard just as much as he had been overestimating it in so many other ways.

When Arthur had overheard Merlin skyping with his mum, talking about how his father had proposed to her on Christmas Eve, Merlin really had been serious. And in some way, Arthur had known that, hadn’t he? Why else would he have panicked the closer the holidays had come? Why else would it have felt like the end of the world when in late November Arthur had come back from a networking conference in France to an empty flat, Merlin’s key on the kitchen table with a note saying that he’d spontaneously moved in with Percy?

Standing in front of the stage door of the National, in a cloud of drizzle on Christmas Eve, looking more like a drenched chicken by the second and his rose more and more like an unhappy ending in “The Beauty and the Beast”, Arthur’s grand plan, his grand idea of a big gesture, his ‘concession’ to Merlin’s addiction to horrible rom-coms that he supposedly did not share at all, went down the drain with the last petals of his rose. If Merlin did not like him, if Merlin was happy with Percy, happy enough to move in, happy enough to propose even… then going in and dumping all his feelings on Merlin Love-Actually-style would not be him making all of Merlin’s wishes come true, it would be Arthur’s biggest asshole move yet. He cringed when he remembered that he’d just told _Percy_ that he was Merlin’s boyfriend. Know yourself, indeed.

He walked over a few steps to the next bin, one of those supposedly safer ones, the ugly see-through sack hanging from a metal ring into a growing puddle of water. It would freeze to the ground when the temperature dropped below zero during the night. The stem of the rose looked distorted through the slimy yellow plastic.

When he turned around again, Percy was looking at him intently.

“You what?” He asked.

Arthur wondered how one’s entire world could turn around so completely within just a moment, a moment between starting a sentence and continuing it.

“I just wanted to wish him merry Christmas, and tell him that I’m sorry for being a shitty flatmate and an even shittier friend. I shouldn’t have done a lot of the things I did, and I should have done a lot of things I didn’t do.”

“I see.” Percy stared at him. He nodded towards the bin. “Anything else?”

It was Arthur’s turn to look at Percy. It took him a while to answer.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

In an outburst of emotion that would have included wild flailing from anybody else but was contained within an eyeroll in Percy, Percy rolled his eyes.

“I am not sure what is going on exactly. I am not sure if I even want to know, and I am even less sure whether I want to get pulled into this any more that I have already been. But to me it’s starting to look like you’re both idiots. Massive idiots. I’d say you both deserve each other, but frankly, I think you’re an idiot and an arse, so I’m telling you right now, the next time I see so much as a sad smile from Merlin, you’re going to regret every decision you’ve ever made.”

Arthur was stumped.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You… ok.” Percy took a deep breath. “Are you in love with Merlin?”

“ _You’re_ asking _me_ whether I’m in love with Merlin?” Arthur could feel himself go bug-eyed.

“Yes, I am, and be careful how you answer,” Percy said, crossing his arms and letting his biceps bulge.

Percy really is a mountain, Arthur thought. He stopped his thoughts before they could drift too far down the road of Merlin’s sexual preferences. Arthur wouldn’t have thought mountains of muscles would be Merlin’s type, but if Arthur had learnt anything today at all, then that Merlin really never had been into him and that Arthur had no idea at all about what Merlin actually wanted or liked.

 _Screw it_.

“Yes, I’m in love with him, so what. I’m not going to say anything, and I’m not going to try and steal him away from you, so I have no idea why you should care about this, but-“

Percival groaned. “You really are both idiots.” He physically shake himself out of the Weltschmerz that had apparently descended on him. “Alright. First, I can’t let you inside because there is such a thing like rules, and second, I would never throw Merlin under the bus like that, but you can wait in the lobby. The play will finish in about twenty minutes, and it will take at least an hour until he’s done with autographs and ready to go home, maybe an hour and a half. I’ll tell him you’re waiting in the lobby, so if he wants to see you, he’ll know where you are. Now, scram.”

At this point, Arthur felt as if he’d falling down the rabbit hole and nothing made sense anyway, so he might as well go to the lobby because if nothing else, the lobby was at least warm. In his original plan to win Merlin Arthur had thought to pick up a rose at the Marks & Spencer’s at Waterloo Station, but he had not thought nor expected the necessity to dress for a mid-winter stake-out. He nodded his thanks to Percy and wandered around the building and into the lobby. The warmth inside made him almost feel gooey with relief.

The main shop had already closed, so he sat down in one of the modern-looking but surprisingly comfortable couches and waited. It didn’t take long before the doors of the auditorium opened and people started to pour out, flushed and excited and gushing about the play and Merlin. Soon, however, the last people started to disappear and not long after the staff politely but firmly asked Arthur to leave. He explained that he was waiting for Merlin, but after closing time no non-theatre-adjacent person was allowed to stay and if he was looking for an autograph he should please do so at the stage door.

With no other options left, Arthur trudged back to the stage door, where there was still a throng of people vying the actors’ attention. Arthur caught a glimpse of Merlin, gaily chatting with fans, signing programmes, taking selfies, red-cheeked and hyped after the performance. Arthur knew Merlin was still riding the high of adrenaline, but that he would be bone-tired as soon as that wore off. Again it hit Arthur how selfish his plan had been, not only to completely surprise Merlin with a talk like that in the first place, but also to give no thought to whether Merlin would be in a position to actually participate in a talk like that, directly after a performance. He considered just going home, but by now Percy had probably told Merlin that Arthur was had been here and that he was waiting right now, and if he wasn’t there if Merlin did come looking for him, then Arthur would likely not even get to keep Merlin’s friendship. Or win it back, as the case might be.

Finally, Percy and two other security guards ushered the actors back inside and slowly the fans dispersed, chatting animatedly and comparing their autographs and selfies. Arthur had no idea how Merlin managed to be this kind and patient with all of them, especially when he had to be yearning for a hot shower, a cup of tea, and his bed. Arthur figured that Merlin might come out in the front of the theatre if he didn’t see Arthur in the lobby, so Arthur went back to the front again. The drizzle was slowly changing to snow and for a while Arthur amused himself with watching the snowflakes land on his hand and melt away. It did grow noticeably cooler the longer Arthur was waiting, so he started walking up and down the stairs and in circles in front of the theatre.

When Arthur checked the time, Percy’s estimated ninety minutes had long passed and it was closer to two hours, and if Arthur was being honest with himself, then not only were his feet but also his hope that Merlin might show up slowly freezing to death.

Another twenty minutes later, Arthur was shaking all over and the ground was slippery with half-melted snow. He felt numb, and too tired to think about what it meant that Merlin had elected not to meet him. He would think about that later. Right now, the only thing he had to accept was that he had to give up and get a cab. He hobbled back towards the street, past the National and was about to turn around the corner of the Southbank Centre when somebody barrelled into him.

Tired and frozen as he was, and slippery as the ground had become, Arthur didn’t even notice he was falling when two strong arms caught him and dragged him upright again. Hands in brightly coloured, woollen gloves grabbed his face and turned it ever so slightly upwards.

“Jesus, Arthur, are you alright? Arthur?”

Everything was blurry, had been for a while, but Arthur hadn’t really realised that until now. Why was everything blurry?

“Fuck, Arthur, are you hurt? Why are you crying? Jesus, your hands are cold as ice. What the fuck did you do standing around in the rain like that, you clotpole!”

Was he crying? The would explain why everything was blurry. And why his face felt so cold. This person was very clever. They also reminded him so much of Merlin. Merlin always called him a clotpole. He always pretended it wasn’t a real word which drove Merlin up the wall. Arthur knew well enough that it was used in “King Lear”. Arthur might not have studied theatre like Merlin, but he had studied every play Merlin had ever been in so he could have the full experience when going to see Merlin perform.

“Arthur!”

Something hit Arthur in the face.

“What…” He shook his head and scrubbed his eyes. The person in front of him was Merlin. Merlin. _Oh fuck it was Merlin._ “You’ve hit me!”

“Yes, I’ve hit you!” Merlin huffed back. “You were completely spaced out and crying and you were freaking me out! What were you doing standing around in the cold and the rain?!”

And Arthur realised two things. One, he was physically too tired to come up with a lie, and two, he was emotionally too tired to come up with a lie.

“Percy said to wait for you in the lobby, but they closed and threw me out and I thought you might come out in the front, so I waited there because I didn’t want you to think I had left if you came to talk with me.”

Merlin ducked his head.

“I did think you’d left. I looked but couldn’t see you, and I only went back and asked around if anybody had seen you or knew anything because Percy insisted. He was completely sure you wouldn’t have left. He actually sounded kind of worried.”

Arthur swallowed. “I didn’t leave.”

Merlin nodded. “You didn’t.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry I didn’t check, I was so mad when Gwain let slip that you had shown up at the stage door and assumed you could just come in.”

Arthur shook his head. “I shouldn’t have shown up like that, completely unannounced after how everything happened.”

Merlin had been steadily herding Arthur towards the black SUV the theatre used to pick him up and send him home again. He opened the door and motioned for Arthur to climb inside.

“You don’t have to take me home, I’m alright, just stood around in the cold a little too long.”

Merlin huffed. “Arthur, you were unresponsive, you were crying, you’re soaked through, I’m not letting you get a cab on your own let alone take the tube.”

“It was raining, I just got wet.”

“Arthur!” Merlin took a deep breath. “Get in the car. It’s not a problem, it’s not an issue, we can go to my place, you can calm down and when I’m satisfied you’re fine you can go and take a bloody cab and go home. Now _will you please get into the car._ ”

As soon as they were both inside, the car pulled away from the curb and soon slipped neatly into the late night traffic rushing past Waterloo Station. They watched London pass by their windows, both gaudy and tasteful decorations, all twinkling in the many lights of the city. The snow was falling a little heavier, but not heavy enough to slow traffic down yet.

“If any of this sticks around, the trains will be late tomorrow. _There will be delays this morning due to snow on the lines_ ”, Merlin intoned. “On the plus side, Trafalgar Square might get a white dusting and people might actually win that bet for once.” He fell back into silence.

They were well past London Bridge and passing through Bermondsey when Merlin spoke again. “Why did you want to talk to me?” Merlin asked, looking away.

Arthur sighed. “I just wanted to wish you merry Christmas. Say sorry for how I acted the last couple of months. I did a lot of stuff I’m not proud of, and I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through. I know you’ve moved in with Percy and that you’re happy there, and the last thing I want to do is make you feel like you have to come back, but I just wanted you to know that, for what it’s worth, I miss having you around. I miss sharing the flat with you. I miss your annoying collection of topical tea caddies and I miss that horrible cat of yours that behaves more like a lizard than cat. I… I miss you,” Arthur ground to a halt. “I didn’t expect Percy to live in Greenwich.”

Merlin side-eyed him. “Why not?”

Arthur shrugged. “No reason, really… somehow just didn’t expect it.”

“He doesn’t.”

“He doesn’t? Why are we…”

Merlin sighed. “I am not living with Percy. I stayed over at his place the first night after I’d decided to move out, but we took all my stuff directly to my gran’s house in Greenwich. She moved back to Pembroke last summer and said to make use of the house if I wanted. So I did.”

“You are not living with Percy?”

“No, I’m not, you cabbage head!”

“But I thought you had moved in with him and were about to propose-“

“I- you thought I- what? Why would I propose to Percy?!”

“Because you’ve been together for months, and for all I knew you’d moved in with him, and I heard you talking to your mum about how your dad proposed to her on Christmas E-“

“Oh my god. I honestly can’t - _oh my god_ , that’s what Percy meant. I am going to hit him right over his stupid head and knowing looks, right after I’ve - honestly I have no idea what I’ll do with you, Arthur, you utter and complete clotpole!”

“That’s not a real word!”

“I know well enough that you know that it’s a real word, so don’t even try that, Pendragon!”

“I can’t believe you let me think you were with Percy!”

“I never said nor implied that I was!”

“You let me think you were living with him!”

“Yeah, well, excuse me, I think I’m entitled to some pettiness when you kept bringing him one night stands and rubbing them into my face, when all the while you knew well enough that I had had a massive crush on you for years!”

Arthur felt as if a truck had just rolled over him. “You.. what?”

“Don’t give me that, Arthur”, Merlin spit, “you _knew_ I was in love with you and you didn’t give a flying fuck how I was feeling!”

“You… you were in love with me? Merlin… I didn’t know! I was trying to maybe make you jealous, to see if you could like me that way, and I’ll be the first to agree that that was a very shitty plan, but I had no idea you liked me that way or I would never have done that! You have to believe me that I wouldn’t hurt you like that intentionally, please!”

The car pulled up next to a late Victorian semi-detached house a little outside the centre of Greenwich. Canary Wharf was gleaming on the other side of the Thames. Merlin silently ushered Arthur onto the porch and into the house. Once he had entered the code for the alarm, he waved Arthur towards the bathroom.

“I’ll get you some dry clothes. Have a hot shower, dry off, I’ll be in the kitchen. Down the stairs and through the pantry to the right.”

Everything felt so surreal to Arthur; everything was so different from what he had expected. His chest tightened when he thought about how Merlin had to have felt. He couldn’t believe that Merlin had seriously thought Arthur capable of doing that. It seemed they both didn’t know each other as well as they thought they did.

As promised, there were a pair of pants, sweatpants, and thick fluffy socks, bright red with Santa hats, as well as a hoodie. The sweatpants were a little long and the hoodie a little tight, but much less than Arthur had expected. In any case, it was fresh and clean, and most importantly warm and smelled of the organic detergent Merlin insisted on using.

When Arthur came downstairs, the kitchen smelled of warm sugar and butter and Merlin was busy placing cookies on a baking tray. An old, egg-shaped timer went off that looked as if it had been around longer than Merlin’s gran, and Merlin pulled a tray of perfectly golden sugar cookies from the oven and replaced it with the newly filled one. Merlin noticed Arthur staring at them.

“I needed to do something. It’s Christmas. I made cookies. Stop giving them weird looks, it’s my mum’s recipe and it never fails.”

Merlin went to the fridge and pulled out a glass bottle of milk.

“Yes, I’m getting my milk from the milkman, and if you think that’s too hipster, you don’t have to take any.”

He warmed some, filled two mugs and put one in front of Arthur.

They munched warm cookies, dipping them in milk, and didn’t talk again until the tray had come out of the oven.

“Did you really have no idea that I had a crush on you?” Merlin finally asked.

Arthur shook his head. “None whatsoever. I wouldn’t have brought anybody to the flat at all. Merlin, I am so sorry.”

“You’re really not going to say anything, are you?” Merlin huffed.

“Say what?” Arthur was confused.

“Percy and I are not together, you’re not breaking up any engagements or stealing anybody’s boyfriend here,” Merlin hinted.

“Oh god,” Arthur hid his head under his crossed arms on the table. “Percy told you.”

“Yes, and I’m glad he did, otherwise you idiot of a clotpole might still be shuffling along along the Southbank!”

“I was on my way home!”

“I can’t believe you acted so irresponsibly, do you have any idea how I would have felt if anything had happened to you!”

“Yeah well, I didn’t think you’d care!”

“I’m in love with you, you utter arse!”

“I’m in love with you too, you idiot!”

Arthur stared at Merlin and Merlin stared at Arthur.

“I-“ Arthur started.

“Don’t you dare take it back!” Merlin hissed.

“I don’t want to take it back,” Arthur said.

They sat across the table, just looking at each other, for a long while.

“We really are idiots, aren’t we,” Arthur finally said.

“We might both be idiots, but you’re an arse,” Merlin said.

“But you love me anyway…?”

“I do, against my better judgment,” Merlin said, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Do you also take me for pity?” Arthur joked. “Because honestly, I wouldn’t mind, as long as you take me.”

Merlin sniggered.

“God, you’re an idiot,” Arthur huffed, smiling.

“But I am your idiot.”

“For however long you want to be.”

They finished the cookies, and cuddled up on Merlin’s bed, watching the snow fall outside, until they both fell asleep. The next morning they both blushed furiously when they woke up tangled together. They were in no hurry to get out of bed, though.

 


End file.
